Blood
by professorprowriting
Summary: Roxas is a rich, well off, but damaged boy from a wealthy and affluent family. Hating what he lives for, and desiring more, would he give it all up for a dangerous and unpredictable madman?


AN

Okay, so I've had this idea for the story for so long now and I am so excited to finally have the time to write this. It was my best idea I've had and I pitched to my friends and they were like, "Oh my god, I cannot wait to read this!" So, I'm pretty sure this is my master popis. I'm really really excited and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Chapter One

Roxas sat up, sweat dripping down his face. His heavy breathing the only sound echoing through his empty his large empty bedroom. Putting his hand on his sweatier chest, Roxas tried to calm his quickly beating heart. This was the 10th nightmare in a row, and nothing he did could ever seem to stop them…

"Okay," Roxas said to himself. "Let's check and see if it happened again." He tentatively reached up and touched his nose with a delicate and slender pale finger. Pulling it away, his ocean blue orbs locked onto the blurry digit in front of him. There it was. The dark, sticky substance was once again dripping from his nose. Blood. Like always, with the nightmares comes the bloody nose.

"Fuck," Says Roxas as he hoists himself up out of the best bed money could buy. "I need to take care of this right now." He said to himself. Ten nights in a row is a lot of nights to be continually getting a super bloody nose. He had previously tried to talk to his father about the issue, but being a busy a congressman, Cloud Strife, had no time to deal with his 18 year old sons issues regarding sleep. And there is no way he could go to his mother, Aerith Strife, because ever since her passing, he felt unable to communicate correctly with women of the opposite sex. Including his little sister, Namine. She was only ten, but he still felt removed from her. Despite his little sister constantly clinging to his leg, he felt no real connection with her anymore.

Pushing the bathroom door that was connected to his large bedroom open, Roxas staggered inside, putting his hands on the sink and supporting his weight. With a heavy and shaky sigh, Roxas slide a hand through his golden spiky locks, pushing it back out of his sweaty face. "This can't keep happening," he whispered softly to himself, turning the sink to cold water. "Why is this happening?"

Truth be told, the small teen had no idea what was causing these sudden and abrupt nightmares. His brain must have been fried with all the studying he had been missing. Perhaps it was guilt, because Roxas hated school. He hated studying and he hated the patriarchy involved in the upper class private school intended for children of rich or famous people or politicians.

Every dream was the same dream and as much as he would have liked to have blamed it on the procrastination the teen was doing, the contents of the dream don't really seem to match that. The seem to match a different kind of -ination. That's right, "fascination."

His dreams teetered between somewhere between horrible and completely enthralling. His passions seemingly coming out in those dreams, Roxas wondered what kind of person he truly was.

After successfully calming himself down, cleaning up his blood, Roxas shook his head, turning the bathroom light off and slowly making his way back to his bed, throwing his body on the soft surface. The darkness now enveloping him once more, the teens ocean blue eyes drifted closed, his mind falling into the darkness of sleep.

"Oh, what do we have here?" The raspy voice sounded oddly familiar, making the boy groan in recognition. Is this- "What, not going to answer me?"

Roxas's cloudy vision began to take shape, coming into focus. It was a man, slender and tall, his body looming over Roxas, with a presence that stated its confidence, its danger, and utter impulsiveness. An impulsive danger that Roxas felt oddly inviting.

The man's face, mostly covered in shadow, could still be made out due to the cracked open door to the bathroom that acted as the sole light source, highlighting the square jawbone, the sharp cheekbones, and the corners of two almond shaped green eyes. Those eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, blocking out anything surrounding them.

Roxas blinked, "This again." He huffed and put a firm hand on the man's chest, making an attempt to put distance between the two of them. Though as hard as he pushed, the man never moved. As if made of stone.

"Stubborn, are you?" The voice was little more than a whisper, but it disrupted Roxas's entire train of thought. The idea of resisting completely disappeared. What was this? What was this feeling? "Why don't you come home with me, then?"

Roxas blinked once more, trying to stabilize his own thoughts, "Why don't I…" Moving his hand away from the man's slender but toned chest, Roxas felt something cold and wet on his hands. Looking down, he examined it further. "Blood...Blood, this is blood…" He whispered to himself.

"Don't worry." The man seemed to purr out the words, putting a hand on Roxas's cheek as he drew him closer, putting his lips to his ear. "It's not mine."

With those words, despite their meaning and their insinuation, Roxas had been sealed away by this man, his body becoming weak, his thoughts blanking out.

"Why don't you wake up?" He whispered to him.

"Wake up?" His voice was weak, almost like he was trying to speak it, but his mouth wouldn't open.

"Why don't you wake up?"

Wh-what is he-

"Why don't you wake up?"

I am-

"Why don't you wake up?" The voice boomed, cinnamon breath bursting against Roxas's resting face, causing the teen's eyes to shoot open. When he did, he was greeted by a face, inches from his, the opposing silhouette sitting next to him on his bed, leaning over, his arms on either side of Roxas.

"WHA-" Before he could let out his alerted screams, the stranger took a long and lanky looking arm and slammed it against Roxas's mouth, holding it down tightly.

"What the fuck are you screaming for? Do you want to die?" The voice whispered, the husky voice vibrating against Roxas's skin. What was this stranger doing in house? What was he doing in his room? What was he doing on his bed? What did he want from him? Wait, did he just say DIE?

"Don't be a fucking dumbass kid." The man groaned, squeezing his hand against Roxas's lips, before contorting what little of the face Roxas could see, grimacing. "Jesus fuck, you're bleeding. What is your problem?"

Oh, Roxas thought. It must have been the nosebleed. He did just have that dream again. Dammit. At least it was distracting this man.

Taking this moment of weakness, Roxas was able to examine the stranger in his room. Despite the slender figure of the man, he appeared to be very strong. His hands were gloved by something that sounded and felt like leather. Real leather? The smell would confirm that for him. Real leather gloves. Okay, what else can he make out?

White. A white shirt. Looks like nice fabric. A button up? A white button up? Roxas trailed his eyes up the man's arm, reaching his shoulders, broad and masculine.

"What are you looking at? It's kind of freaking me out." He interrupted his examination with the dry voice, giving his face an extra squeeze, as if telling him to stop. "Seriously, you are a little weirdo, aren't you?"

Suddenly, before he could even let out of muffled answer, a booming voice echoed through the halls. "You finished up there?"

The man sitting on top of Roxas let out a breath, mumbling out a quiet, "Fuck," before answering back to the man that appeared to be downstairs.

"Yeah, yeah, just finishing up." As he said this, his free hand reached behind him, the sound of something heavy shifting around against the sheets as the free hand maneuvered it. What the heck is going on? Why are there people in his house?

Before he could even get out all his questions, a loud BANG shot through the room, a bullet firing from a gun. It was so close in range that Roxas's hearing was seemingly gone. The ringing in his ears failing to distract him from his sudden panic. That man just fired a gun. In his room. What was going on!?

He must have been trying to scream. He saw the man become increasingly agitated, climbing on top of him and increasing the weight he had against his mouth. He must have been telling him to shut up. Roxas thought that must have been what was happening but even that could have been wrong. Nothing was making any sense. What was going on?

Between the ringing and the sounds of his own heart beats, Roxas could hear what sounded like the bass of a man's voice, looking up to see the taller man on top of look up to the general direction of the bedroom door, cracked open, his lips moving like he was yelling something to someone.

What was happening?

Before long, the man was off of him. His hand removed from Roxas's mouth. I guess I must have shut up, Roxas thought, observing as if he were outside of his body. Still unable to hear anything but the unending ringing, Roxas struggled to understand what the lip movements the man was doing meant. He could see him more clearly now as he stepped towards to the bedroom door. The light spilling in from the hallway illuminated the man's face. Oh, how familiar, Roxas thought softly to himself. Somehow seeing these features calmed him slightly, his heartbeat slowing. Square jaw, sharp cheekbones. Oh, lovely red hair, tied up in a sloppy bun, as if he hurried tied it up there to keep it out of the way.

As he calmed himself, he started to make out the husky voice of the man, this time detecting a bit of distress in it. What was he saying, anyway?

"...you have to…" Those sharp eyebrows furrowed, arching together. "...if you want to…"

Roxas blinked two or three times in a row, trying to get his senses to wake up. I need to figure out what's going on here.

"...you dumbass." The man waved a hand in front of Roxas's face before rolling his eyes and walking out, slamming the door behind him. The sound of the door shutting left Roxas alarmed, his hearing suddenly pouring back into his body like water out of a broken dam. A gun. There was a gun. This man had a gun and there was another one down stairs. This is bad. He stood from his bed, wiping the blood from his nose, before realizing that it had already been wiped for him. Did that guy do that?

He looked down at his hand, completely clean. Just behind his hand, on the floor, was a clear bullet hole. He shot the wooden floor? What for? Shaking his head, clearing his mind, Roxas went to his dresser, taking a plain white t-shirt and sliding it on his chest, looking around his room until he settled on a plan. The window. I need to leave. This is bad. I need to leave and call for help. He rushed towards his window, the bedroom door shut firmly behind him, his heart racing. I need to leave, he thought as he placed his hands on his window, sliding it up, the cool breeze hitting his face. He looked down, the third floor was a little high for him to just jump. How was he going to-

"What the fuck are you doing?" The voice was sharp and rugged, shooting through Roxas's body, causing him to jump.

He shot around, looking behind and seeing the silhouette of a tall man. Slender. His arms crossed as he observed Roxas's foolish attempt to escape. "I told you stay up. I guess you really are a dumbass. You couldn't just wait two seconds."

Roxas gulped as he watched the man shake his head in disappointment, taking a hand and running it through his hair, pushing the loose strands of hair back towards the bun. "Do you want to die?"


End file.
